


Bury Me In Satin

by dwell_the_brave



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Young Avengers
Genre: Adoption, Child Death, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Superfamily (Marvel), Team as Family, fostering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwell_the_brave/pseuds/dwell_the_brave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Then hold your head up all the more,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>This tide,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And every tide;</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Because he was the son you bore,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And gave to that wind blowing and that tide.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>- My Boy Jack, by Rudyard Kipling. </i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter dies, and it all starts from there.</p>
<p>[NOT CURRENTLY UPDATING]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

**Author's Note:**

> My first (public) foray into Steve/Tony as the main pairing. I've been working on this story on and off since November last year, and now feel comfortable enough to hand it over to you, the Readers. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on my Tumblr, [dwell-the-brave](http://dwell-the-brave.tumblr.com/), or on my Twitter, [@dwell_the_brave](https://twitter.com/dwell_the_brave).
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Warnings For: Child Death, Cancer**

The call comes at 11 in the morning. Tony is at a board meeting when a very pale looking PA knocks on the glass and pops her head in. Tony catches her eye and she shakes her head, and he’s out the door without a second glance, hearing Pepper make his apologies behind him. Happy is already in the car, and he doesn’t say anything as they drive towards the hospital. It’s not too far, and in New York traffic, it would be quicker to walk, but Tony finds that the quiet gives him a minute to brace himself. He palms his phone and the screen is fearfully blank. Usually there are updates;

_[Sleeping peacefully.]_

_[Woke up for a minute today – he smiled.]_

_[Nurses say he’s a fighter. So proud of our boy.]_

But today – nothing. He should’ve known.

The car lurches to a stop 15 minutes later and Tony is out the door without a word, pushing past the pedestrians. The nurses don’t even try to get him to sign in and he is on the children’s oncology ward before he realises where his feet are taking him. He finds their room, 616, and ducks inside.

Steve is lying on the bed, his arm thrown over the small figure covered in tubes and wires. Tony is breathless but he shucks his coat and kicks off his shoes and climbs on, lying the other side. His husbands face is drawn and pale and his lips are red which betrays his recent crying. His large hand is resting on Peter’s ribs and stroking lightly and Tony tucks himself in behind their son, throwing his arm over him and placing his hand over his heart.

18 months, it took them to get here. And it all ends now.

A nurse comes in, takes some readings and tells them ‘It won’t be long now,’ before she leaves. Steve shudders and Tony presses his face into Peter’s hair. When they agreed to stop the chemo, Peter was happy to grow his hair back. He had proclaimed loudly that he had looked like an alien when he was bald, but Steve reassured him he was as handsome as ever, even if it killed him to say it. Tony had said nothing. 

Peter’s breathing is light and shallow, as though he were sleeping, and the tubes which had been there last night have been removed. Steve is staring at his face, memorising it, but Tony can’t bear to look. He does not want to remember this gaunt and thin body which houses the spirit of his larger-than-life son. His funny, witty, so so painfully smart son, who does not deserve to be here.

They have been there for minutes, hours, when Tony feels Steve move. 

“Tony,” Steve murmurs and Tony looks up and around at the heart monitor. The beats are becoming slowly and more infrequent and fear grips his heart. He presses his face back to Peter’s temple and murmurs furiously.

“I love you, kiddo. Don’t you dare forget. I love you. We love you so much and we will never ever ever forget you,” he repeats it, Steve muttering his own prayer to Peter, until the heart-monitor flatlines. A nurse comes in to turn it off and then leaves again.

Tony grits his teeth and chokes back tears. Steve makes noises that don’t even sound human. 

**{#}**

The Avengers come to say good-bye. Tony and Steve sit in dubious places of honour in the room, two plastic armchairs next to the bed. Peter has been straightened out by nurses, the remaining IVs and tubes removed and if Tony squints, he looks like he’s sleeping. Steve has not said anything yet, tears leaking from his eyes constantly.

Natasha and Clint come first. Natasha murmurs Russian prayers over Peter’s body, a hand on his head and the other on his heart. She has to stop every now and then to choke back a sob. Clint sobs over Peter’s body, clutches at his cold hand and presses a kiss to the knuckles. Peter’s hand falls lifeless back to the bed. 

Thor openly cries. The tears slide into his blond beard and he doesn’t wipe them away. He holds his hands over Peter’s body and starts to sing. The words reverberate in the room and Tony draws in deep, shuddering breaths. He knows this song – it is the Asgardian song of mourning. Thor finishes singing and nods, reaching up to wipe a hand over his face. He turns to them with an awful, torn, expression. “He has returned to the stars. You shall be reunited in Valhalla,” he says and Steve makes another one of those awful sounds.

Bruce does not want to come, and Tony doesn’t blame him, though Steve is angry about it. He tells Tony over the phone ‘The... other guy won’t understand. He’ll get angry. I – I don’t.. I can’t,-,” and then Bruce breaks down in sobs. Tony understands. Steve is making those inhuman noises again and Tony can’t say anything else.

Pepper comes by, her knees buckling when she sees Peter’s body. She slumps to the floor with a small ‘Oh,’ and Rhodey, behind her, hauls her to her feet despite the tears on his face. Pepper reaches the bed and carefully strokes Peter’s face and hair and with a watery smile, she plants a kiss on his forehead and murmurs a quiet good-bye. Tony can’t look and instead stares at his husband, who can’t look anywhere else.

Rhodey looks lost, standing at the foot of the bed and when Pepper has moved to stand by Tony, her slim fingers curling over the back of his neck, Rhodey just salutes. Steve’s horrible noises start up again and he gasps and groans like he can’t bear the pain - and in truth, neither of them can. “Rest easy, soldier,” Rhodey says quietly and Steve slides out of his seat to fall to his knees, his face in his hands.

Bucky enters then, the metal arm gleaming. He freezes at the sight of Peter’s body, sucking in a large breath and then he’s on the floor before Steve, his arms around Steve’s shaking body, pulling him close. His face is vicious in grief and Tony turns his eyes up to the ceiling.

“We’re here, pal, not going anywhere Stevie, never leaving you,” Bucky is muttering furiously and Steve howls. 

Tony leaves.

**{#}**

Sam finds him outside, in the bustling New York air. He stands next to him silently while Tony stares up at the sky. In the time its taken for - today - to happen, it has become night and Tony is trying to find a star, any star in the sky.

“How was it?” Sam asks and Tony huffs, tilting his head back down and scrubbing a hand along his face. 

“How do you think? I held my kid as he d-died today,” and Tony breathes deep to stop himself from crying - _Stark men do not cry_ his father’s voice viciously tells him. “Worst fucking day of my life,” he says quietly and then Happy approaches him with a mug of coffee. Happy had said his good-byes once Tony had left. Sam nods, and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. 

“It’s getting late. You need to get home,” Sam says and Tony breathes deep again.

“This is it, isn’t it?” he asks and Sam nods. “You know, the last time I was here in hospital with him, we were bringing him home. He was tiny… barely cried, just looked up with his big eyes and watched and-,” his breath becomes sharper and he drops the coffee on the floor with a gasp. Happy bends down to pick it up and Tony tries to push him away. “N-no, Happy, I can-,”

“Boss,” Happy says with a deep voice and Tony stills. Happy places both his hands on Tony’s shoulders and looks at him. “Go say ‘bye to Peter, and I’ll take you home. Take as long as you need,” and Tony nods once, letting Sam lead him upstairs.

Steve is in the room alone, humming to himself and stroking Peter’s hair back. It had grown back curly, thick brown curls which Peter loved and hated at the same time. Tony wants to scream. Sam ushers him into the room, and then closes the door behind him with a _click_ , leaving them alone as a family for the final time.

“Hey,” Tony says quietly, sitting down next to his husband. Steve turns to look at him, a watery smile on his face. “We should.. uh, we should-,” and then he chokes. Steve’s face falls and he nods. 

“O-okay,” Steve says, tears gathering and Tony nods. They fall silent, and then Tony begins humming the same song Steve had been - and Steve starts singing, stroking back Peter’s hair, in his deep and rumbling voice. 

“ _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby_.”

and Tony hums with Steve sings until Sam comes to lead them away. Steve presses a kiss to Peter’s forehead, sobbing as he pulls away, and then he kisses his cheek and his chin and his nose and his hands. 

“I love you baby,” Steve murmurs and then he lets go. Tony steps up next and takes a moment to study his son’s face. Peter’s lips were slightly parted, and his long eyelashes were fanned over his cheekbones. Tony places his hand on Peter’s cheek and strokes along his skin and smiles at him.

“You are so handsome, my lovely boy,” he says to him and then he leans down and kisses Peter’s forehead. “I love you. Don’t forget,” 

And then he leaves.

**{#}**

By the time they reach the Avengers tower, they are exhausted. Happy takes them around the back to avoid the press and they leave the car directly into an elevator. JARVIS is unusually silent until they reach the penthouse.

“ _I am so sorry for your loss, Sirs,_ ” he eventually says and Steve nods without a word. They enter the living room to see all their friends there. Natasha stands from where she was sat on the sofa.

“We can leave, if you want,” she says quietly, “But we thought it might be nice if we were all together tonight,” and then Steve sags with relief.

“Yeah… yeah, that would be… good,” he says heavily. “I’m just going to…” and then he trails off, looking lost. Tony takes his arm and leads him into their bedroom, and then on to the ensuite bathroom. He strips them both and turns on the shower, pushes Steve into it and then pulls him into a hug. Any other time this would be erotic, their naked skin wet against each other, all hard muscles and clean lines. But once Tony’s arms are around him, Steve breaks, gasping wet sobs into his shoulder. Tony feels himself shatter too, feels his teeth bared with each gasp of sorrow. They cry themselves out, letting the water wash it away, and then they wash in a haze. JARVIS eventually switches the shower off, like a poke in the right direction, and they stumble out of it, and dress. Tony only realises he’s been going on autopilot when he finds himself trying to shrug on a suit jacket - he takes it off, dumps it on the floor, and raids Steve’s drawers for a t-shirt. He puts on sweatpants and towels roughly at his hair, and then goes back down to the living room, where their friends are waiting.

Jane, Darcy and Coulson have arrived from wherever SHIELD have been keeping them, and the girls rush over to hug him. Darcy is blotchy and red-nosed, and Jane has bleary eyes. Coulson looks to be keeping it together, but there is a pinching to his mouth and a tremble to his frame which belies his true state. He greets Steve with a one-armed hug, and moves to do the same to Tony.

“ _Woah_ \- I don’t trust you not to taser me,” Tony says, backing away with his hands up. Coulson huffs a laugh.

“It’d be for your own good. And super-nanny is cancelled now, anyway,” he points out and Tony feels a smile quirk at the corners of his mouth. 

They settle themselves on the sofas and pass around drinks and food - they talk quietly among themselves, and then Clint clears his throat. Bucky sits beside him, his head bowed, an arm looped over his husband's shoulders and a beer resting loosely in his free hand. He looks as broken as Tony feels. 

“I just wanna… well, I want to make a toast. For Peter. Best kid ever,” Clint says, half-mumbled, lifting his beer in a salute. Everyone follows suit, the room subdued and Steve nods.

“I… Thank you - all of you. Tony and I,” he reaches for Tony’s hand, and gives it a squeeze. “You have all shown amazing support. It means a lot,” his throat closes and he chokes back a sob. Tony reaches up to wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling his husband close. Everyone has matching faces of sorrow on, and Tony knows his is no different.

“JARVIS,” he calls.

“ _Yes sir?_ ” 

“Cue the baby videos,” is all he says and then the TV flickers to life. Baby Peter, barely a day old and dwarfed by Steve’s arms, is sleeping against his chest, and Steve is looking down at him with a small smile. Tony is just next to them, pressed against Steve’s side, watching their son. They look at each other, smile, kiss and then a handful of popcorn hits the screen.

“You guys are _sickening_ , you know that?” Clint shouts and they all laugh. 

**{#}**

A week later, and the day of the funeral was bright and brisk. Tony hasn’t slept the night before, lying in bed listening to Steve’s soft breathing, thinking about this day. He woke up mechanically when the alarm went off, showered and dressed in the pressed black suit Pepper had hung up for him (21 years as the CEO and she was still hanging out his suits). Steve dresses while Tony plays with his cufflinks, smart in his dress uniform, and Tony used to tease him about how he made the uniform look good enough for a runway and now all he can think about is how he wishes he never sees that damned uniform again. Steve catches him watching in the mirror, his face drawn and pale, and he reaches out behind him. Tony steps forward and quietly links their fingers together, perching on the chaise lounge nearby, Steve finishing doing his tie up one-handed while Tony stares into the distance, feeling as though his husband is the only thing anchoring him to the Earth. 

At 9.35, JARVIS informs them that the car has arrived to take them to the church. They take the elevator down, hands still clasped, and neither of them say anything as they slip out of the front doors, ignoring the terrible and screaming media, and climb into the car.

Tony is grateful for the tinted windows.

They arrive at Trinity Church with the sun cresting over the steeple. The hearse is already there, the coffin a pure white surrounded by flowers. Steve takes Tony’s hand as they leave the car and the paparazzi and surrounding pedestrians are strangely quiet and still. A few of them look tearful. Tony ignores them in favour of holding onto Steve’s hand tightly, trying not to fall to his knees. Their friends are there already, and Pepper reaches forward to smooth the lapels of her coat, her black kid gloves making ‘ _hush_ ’ing sounds as they smooth the fabric. She kisses his cheek and then Steve’s and their other friends greet them similarly – the women with kisses and the men with hugs and handshakes. The priest comes up to them discreetly.

“We’ll start in a few minutes, gentlemen” he reminds them and Tony nods, taking Steve’s arm and leading him into the church. There’s a security guard on the door and Tony would snort at the ridiculousness of it, except that if he wasn’t there, the funeral would be over-run by well-wishers and people who just wanted to be in the same room as the Avengers. The guard nods at them and opens one of the large doors for them. The church is half-full already, Peter’s school friends and their parents gathered to mourn. Gwen Stacey and Harry Osborne find them in the crowd and Gwen can hardly get her words out, and Harry looks like the slightest breeze will send him toppling over, his lips pressed thin and pale. Steve pulls them both into his embrace and the three of them collapse inwards, shoulders shaking and breath coming in gasps. After a minute, Tony reaches for Steve’s arm and Steve pulls away, nodding.

“You two are always welcome in the tower,” Steve says and they both nod tearfully. Music strikes up from somewhere and Tony wants to scream. Its one of Peter’s favourite songs, by Owl City. He helped them plan his funeral, while he still could. He chose the music, the hymns, the readings – he didn’t want to choose his coffin, as he found that a bit too morbid. (“All of this is a bit morbid, kiddo,” Tony said, once, sitting besides Peter’s hospital bed. The nasal cannula makes Peter’s breathing whistle slightly and he huffs out a laugh. His laptop is open on his lap, and he’s typing rapidly. “Yeah, but this is my send-off,”)

‘ _You’re the sky that I fell through,_

_And I remember the view,_

_Whenever I’m holding you._

_The sun hung from a string,_

_Looking down on the world,_

_As it warmed over everything,_ ’

Steve and Tony send Gwen and Harry to their seats (on the row behind the Avengers, as Peter’s best friends), and go find the priest by the door. Clint, Sam, Rhodey and Coulson are down by the hearse, listening to the undertaker explain their roles as pallbearers  - when they were preparing for this day, the Undertaker had pointed out mournfully that there were typically 6 pallbearers, but in Peter’s case, only 4 would be needed. Tony had understood what he meant instantly – Peter wasn’t fully grown. Peter would _never_ be fully grown. The feeling of wanting to scream became a recurring theme in Tony’s life.

The priest is explaining to them how they will enter the church. The paparazzi are shameless and Tony can hear the sound of cameras clicking in the distance, and he tries to ignore it. When it’s all over, Tony looks over and feels his knees buckle. Peter’s coffin has been taken out of the hearse and is now balanced on the shoulders of their friends. They each have an arm weaved underneath the white-washed wood and their other hand balanced on top and it’s fucking awful. Tony lets out a low groan as he sinks to the floor and then Steve is on him, gripping his shoulders.

“You need to stand up, baby, I need you to get up. It’s... we’re here, together, Tony, we’re doing this together,” Steve is saying and Tony nods dumbly, letting himself be hauled to his feet. The priest nods and the undertakers move to open the doors of the church. The music in the distance has died away and Tony grips Steve’s hand in a vice as they take their place behind the coffin, following it in.

He looks around as they enter – the sea of young faces, tear-stained and trembling greet him. Gwen and Harry are sat with Pepper, their respective fathers no doubt hidden somewhere discreetly in the back. Wade Wilson is lurking in the shadows on the other side of the pews, and he salutes silently when he notices Tony watching him. Peter had something of a hero-worship for him, and Wade had visited a few times, against Tony’s suggestions - Steve had snapped at him that if it brought Peter comfort, what did it matter? It hadn’t been the last argument they’d had. The Priest greets the congregation with a blessing, and they all take their seats.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur. Standing up, sitting down, singing, praying. All Tony sees is the white coffin and the mound of flowers and the stained glass window behind the altar. He focuses on the feel of Steve’s hand in his and his breathing and then he is following the coffin back to the hearse to take them to the cemetery.

Peter is being interred in the Stark family mausoleum. Tony’s parents are already there, their names engraved in the stone facade by the door. It is in a secluded corner and the transition is seamless - the hearse is already neatly parked by the time their car even arrives. Again, their pallbearers, their friends, take their places and carry Peter to the small stand outside the mausoleum. The priest welcomes them all, and says his bit about the tragedy of this loss and how everyone would have to look to God at this time of grief - Tony wants to spit in his face. Where was God when his son was diagnosed with cancer? Where had God been when they were up at 3 am helping Peter with his night sweats, with the nausea, the migraines that came as a result of chemo?

Where had God been the day they, as a family, decided to let Peter die?

Gwen is the first to say something at the graveside. She has a piece of paper in her hands but they’re shaking so much that Tony is surprised she could even read it. “We read _The Fault in Our Stars_ , Peter and I. And he hated it. Not because it wasn’t good, or it wasn’t true, but because, in his own words, he didn’t want to know how he was going to die. He phoned me just after finishing and said ‘Gwen, I have just read the spoilers for my own life,’” a chuckle runs through the amassed mourners. Only close friends and family at the graveside. Happy is clutching Pepper’s hand like it is a lifeline.“I want to share with you a quote from the book,” Gwen continues, and then she looks down at her piece of paper and clears her throat. “ _‘There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.’_ ”

Gwen blinks rapidly and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. “I want more numbers for Peter - more minutes, more hours, more days. I want more time for his Dads,” and she gives Steve and Tony a watery smile “And his aunts and uncles, and, selfishly, more numbers for me and Harry. There is nothing I wouldn’t trade for that and-,” she sniffles and waves a hand in distress. Pepper stands up to help her, and brings her in for a hug. Gwen lets go after a second and then just shakes her head, looking at the coffin. “I will miss you every day, Peter. For the rest of my numbers. There won’t be anyone else like you, ever again,” 

She sits back down and Harry reaches over to take a death grip on her hand. Tony notices how his knuckles blanch from how tight he’s holding on. Rhodey stands up next, clearing his throat, going to stand at the makeshift podium that has been set up. There are no notes clutched in his hands.  

“Peter was born on a weirdly cold May morning. I remember, because Tony called me in a panic at 4 am, screaming down the phone about how their surrogate had gone into labour and I needed to come right away. So I did. I was there for when Tony and Steve came out of that delivery room with a tiny little bundle of blankets and h-he was tiny. Peter was so small, and they were looking at him like he was the most precious thing on the earth…” Rhodey presses a tissue to his face for a second before continuing. Tony’s going to ask him and Steve to burn their dress uniforms after this. “He grew up an honorary Avenger. Bravest and most stubborn kid I ever met, and I met Tony when he was 15. He was throwing knives in the kitchen by age 7, nearly gave Steve a heart-attack and I think Natasha and Clint are still getting that lecture to this day,” another giggle. Steve had been furious, but Peter had been elated that he had managed to pin an apple to the cupboard behind Clint’s head. The small smile leaves Rhodey’s face and he frowns. “Peter… Peter was a good kid. It isn’t… fair that he isn’t here anymore. That we have to carry on without him. There isn’t a person here who wouldn’t have him back in a heartbeat, no matter what the cost. As Gwen said - there will never be anyone like him ever again,” 

And then Rhodey leaves the podium. They stand as the priest reads the commendation and then it’s over. Peter will be laid to rest beside his grandparents, and the mausoleum will be sealed until the next Stark passing.

For their sake, Tony hopes it isn’t any time soon.

 


	2. Forever Could Be Severed By...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moves on, but Steve is still a son-less Father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I really do suck at chapter summaries - in this chapter, we find out where Teddy Altman fits in)
> 
> As always, you can find me on my Tumblr, [dwell-the-brave](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dwell-the-brave/), or my Twitter, [@dwell_the_brave](https://twitter.com/dwell_the_brave).
> 
> The song mentioned in the chapter is _Bury Me In Satin by The Band Perry, which inspired this whole story._
> 
> _**Chapter Warnings For: Homophobic Language, Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Violence** _

**6 Months Later - Steve - Early October**

Steve has taken to being out of the tower as much as he can. It wasn’t that he hated it, it was just that every corner he turned, every hallway he walked down, he is reminded of Peter. It’s like opening a wound again and again until it just wept blood all the time, with no chance of healing. Peter’s bedroom has been left exactly the same, even the unmade bed from the last time they had rushed him to the hospital at 4 in the morning. His homework still sits on his desk, incomplete, and there is an unfinished episode of How I Met Your Mother waiting on JARVIS’ servers for him.

It’s too painful.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is Steve’s favourite place to hide out. A lot of the guards and curators know him by now, and are happy to leave him to it unless he asks them something. He goes in, grateful that Tony’s donation makes them lifetime benefactors and he heads straight for the Temple of Dendur. It is quiet at this time of the morning, and so Steve takes a seat on one of the benches, pulls his sketchbook out of his bag and sets to work. 

The hours fly by on his pencil, and when Steve looks up again, the room is humming with activity. There are at least two school groups nearby, and every so often a children will glance at him and turn to a friend and point. He’s used to being recognised, but on days like today, he’d rather be left alone. So he packs up his belongings and heads further into the gallery to explore.

He leaves behind the temple and goes to explore the exhibition on Spranger, and it’s there that he finds peace. He studies the artwork carefully and lets the muted colours of decades past wash over him. After a while, he hears footsteps approaching and he looks up. A teenager, probably not much older than Peter (a punch to the heart) takes a seat on a nearby bench and tilts his head back against the wall. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and while Steve looks (as subtly as possible), he presses one raggedy sleeve to a cut on his lip which is slowly oozing blood. _That_ is something Steve can’t ignore. He stands up and approaches the boy.

“Hey,” he says quietly, but even that causes the boy to flinch. Steve raises his hands in a surrender pose, but continues approaching. “Sorry, I just - I can see the cut on your lip. Are you okay?” he asks and the boy eyes him suspiciously before shrugging.

“It’s not gonna kill me if that’s what you’re asking,” the kid says. He’s blonde, with hair that probably needed a cut a few months ago, and clear blue eyes. His ears are pierced in multiple places, and there is something about the set of his jaw which reminds Steve of someone. 

Steve gives the kid a small smile and then gestures to the empty space besides him. “May I?” he asks. The kid nods, dabbing at his lip again, and Steve sinks into the seat next to him. He rests back against the wall and eyes the teenager critically. “You get punched a lot?” he asks and the boy jerks, tenses, readies to flee. Steve gives a huff of a laugh. “Don’t worry, kid - I’m used to getting punched a lot. I can see the signs. Your cheek is going to be a real shiner by the end of the day,” he says, and he can already see the purple underneath the boy’s flushed cheek.

The boy stares at him and then his eyebrows raise significantly. “You’re-!” and then Steve raises a finger to his lips with a smile.

“Yeah, I am. I just wanted some peace today, though,” he says, raising his sketchbook in explanation. The boy nods and then huffs a laugh, leaning back into the bench.

“Just my luck. I get to meet Cap- uh, _you_ \- on the one day I don’t manage to dodge a swing. Great!” the kid says, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. Steve finds himself smiling at the fit of teenage drama and then his heart hurts. He must make a face, because the kid is eyeing him curiously, so he masks it with a smile - he feels like he’s being doing that a lot these days. 

“Want to tell me why you got punched?” Steve asks after a second, and the kids lips twist in half a smile. He shakes his head. “Your name then, at least?” 

“Teddy,” the kid finally tells him after an obvious moment of deliberation. “Teddy Altman,” he adds and Steve nods. He offers a hand.

“Steve Rogers,” he says and the kid grins, his lip splitting again which causes him to curse. He presses the sleeve back to his lip and brings his head down, nodding.

“Yeah, I figured,” he said. Steve smiles, and then stands.

“Well, if you need any help - I’ll be here until closing. Just ask the front desk to call for me if you can’t find me,” Steve says, swinging his messenger bag onto his shoulder. The kid nods, and then Steve walks away. 

**{#}**

The front desk does call for him, under his preferred false name - Anthony Barnes needs to collect his son from the front desk, please. Steve feels his eyes prick with tears at the words _his son_ and when he reaches the front desk, Teddy is there, his eyes guilty.

“I didn’t - I didn’t ask them to call me that,” he says, sounding desperate and Steve nods, giving him a small smile. The kids cheek is now a deep red with purple blossoming just under his eye and his lip is swollen. He looks a mess. Steve turns to one of the desk girls and asks if there’s a problem. She looks uncomfortable for a second and then explains that Teddy got in using a false ID - he hasn’t paid to be in the museum for the day. Steve eyes the kid critically, who shuffles on the spot nervously. 

“Add him to the authorised persons on the Stark list. I’m sure my husband will be happy to _help_ the museum in any way he can, as repayment,” Steve says, his voice charming and his smile even more so. The girl blushes prettily and asks Steve to sign some forms to this effect. The kid is staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

“You, uh, you don’t have to,” he says awkwardly and Steve gives him a small smile.

“We all need somewhere to hide out, sometimes. I’d rather you came here than some other part of town,” he says and Teddy nods in acceptance.

By the time the forms are done, and Teddy has his own ID card giving him free entry, the sky is growing dark outside and Steve realises it’s time to head home. He reaches out to grasp Teddy’s shoulder before the kid can dart away and he takes a moment to steady himself - Teddy is about the same height Peter is- _was_ , and it’s disconcerting. 

“Try not to get punched again, okay?” Steve says and Teddy snorts to himself. “I might see you around,” Steve tells him in parting and then before he can say anything else, he steps out into the brisk New York autumn air, and leaves. 

The tower isn’t too far by the subway, and Steve lets himself get swept up in the bustle of commuter traffic. Before he knows it, he’s greeting JARVIS in the lobby, and heading to the elevator. There is a pause before JARVIS starts moving and Steve narrows his eyes.

“What is it, JARVIS?” he asks and then he dreads the answer.

“ _You should be aware, Captain, that Sir has been… drinking,_ ” JARVIS says, his carefully modulated voice belying the disapproval that’s obviously there. Steve feels his stomach drop - ever since the funeral, ever since they had said goodbye, Tony had started drinking in earnest again. His fifteen-year chip is long gone. 

There is loud cursing coming from the workshop as Steve climbs the half-level of steps, and he braces himself before entering. Tony is hunched over his worktop, a mostly-empty bottle of scotch at his elbow, and his face blushed. He looks up with bleary eyes and seems to do a mental double-take before narrowing his eyes at Steve.

“If it isn’t my darling husband,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. Steve feels his heart break a little. “Home from the wars, are we?” Tony says tauntingly and Steve shakes his head.

“Come upstairs Tony, let’s have some dinner,” he says instead of rising to the bait. He reaches out to take Tony’s arm, to lead him away, but Tony slaps his hand away before Steve can touch him. Tony’s face has gone taught, tense and Steve steels himself for the inevitable diatribe. 

“Don’t you _touch_ me,” Tony snarls and Steve steps away, raising a hand in surrender. “Don’t- don’t you _touch_ me, n-not when you… when you,” and then his voice chokes and Steve presses a hand to his face.

“When I what, Tony?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. He can feel Tony’s stare on his skin, and it unnerves him. When did they get here?

“You let our son die,” Tony says, voice broken and trembling and Steve feels a shudder run through his body.

“I didn’t _let_ him die,” Steve says, desperate to get it through to Tony that he misses Peter as much as Tony does, that his body aches with it every day like a broken bone that’s never healed. But they’ve had this argument before, and they’ll have it again. “Peter _decided_ , Tony. Peter made that choice and I supported it because we watched for _18 months_ as he got sicker and sicker and he was tired of constantly being sick and in pain,” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them, and Steve moves his hand to cover his mouth, bile rising in his throat. Tony is staring at him, mouth gaping, and then a look of anger washes over it. 

“Get out,” he spits and Steve makes to reach for him. Tony once again knocks his hand away, this time harder and it hurts, of course it does, and then Tony picks up something and throws it in Steve’s direction. It misses him by miles but Steve gets the message. “GET OUT!” Tony screams and he repeats it even after Steve’s out of the workshop, on the other side of the glass, watching his husband sink to his knees and his shouts become one long groan of agony. 

Steve forces himself to move away, to leave Tony to deal with it. He asks JARVIS to call Pepper, call Rhodey, call Bruce, _anyone_ , and then he shuts himself away in their suite and ignores any sounds from outside. In a moment of weakness, he opens the door to Peter’s room.

It still smells of him, faintly. It’s dim in here, JARVIS keeping the windows permanently tinted, and Steve sinks into the carpet by Peter’s bed, fisting his hands into the sheets there. He rests his face against the mattress, and breathes. There is no sign of life here.

“ _Captain_ ,” JARVIS says after a moment and Steve nods - JARVIS registers the movement a second later and continues. “ _I apologise for interrupting you, but… there is a message for you,_ ” he says and Steve wants to bang his head against the wall. 

“I’ll deal with it later, JARVIS, thank you,” he says, still polite after all these years. There is a pause, and then JARVIS speaks again.

“ _My apologies, sir. To clarify - it is a message from Peter,_ ” he says, his tone gentle and Steve’s insides turn to ice. 

“W-what?” Steve says, lifting his head to stare at the wall. There are posters stuck there from Peter’s favourite films and bands, and Natalie Portman pouts down at him. He thinks he might be having a heart attack.

“ _The young master made several messages before his passing. He gave each one a time to be released, and the first one is due now. Would you like to see it, Captain?_ ” JARVIS asks and Steve finds himself nodding before he can stop. One of the windows suddenly has a lit box on it and then Peter’s face. Steve gasps.

He looks so _healthy_ \- his hair is short, little more than bristle really, but his cheeks are plump and his glasses are perched on his nose and he looks so amazing, Steve can hardly breathe. He wasn’t healthy, of course - cancer had been eating away at his body for over a year, but in the context of those last few months, this was the last time Peter had looked truly well. On screen, Peter takes a breath on screen and then smiles.

“ _Hi Dads,_ ” he says and Steve can’t help the hitched breath that escapes him. It has been months since he heard Peter speak and it’s like hearing the voice of God. “ _So I guess if you’re watching this, I’ve been gone for 6 months now. Wow, half a year… I hope it’s taken some getting used to!_ ” Peter says teasingly, a grin splitting his face. “ _I asked JARVIS to film these for me and there are a few more of these video messages - they have timestamps on them and they’re under lock and key so don’t try to hack into them, Dad, you won’t get anywhere!_ ” he means Tony and Steve feels the empty space beside him so keenly. “ _Papa, I hope this doesn’t upset you too much,_ ” Peter continues and Steve shakes his head, wiping a hand under his eyes - his fingertips come away wet. “ _I know how much this is killing you guys, but I want you to know that… this is the right choice. We made the decision today, which is why I’ve made this video, and… yeah, it’s scary thinking I’m gonna die in a few months, but I,_ ” Peter chews his lip and then looks up, blinking rapidly. His next few words are choked, “ _I don’t want to be dying_ forever _. I can spend the last however long doing what I love and being with you guys and the other Avengers and then I can - let go, y’know?_ ” 

“I know, Pete,” Steve says softly, even though Peter is far away by now. They made that decision 4 months before Peter passed away. It had been the hardest discussion they had ever had.

“ _Anyway,_ ” Peter sniffs and wipes under his eyes, readjusting his glasses. He gives the camera a shaky grin. “ _I’ve put together a mix-tape for you guys! Very old-fashioned, I know, but giving you guys my ‘Dead Son iTunes Playlist’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it,_ ” Peter laughs to himself. “ _There are 12 songs. You’re only allowed to hear the next one after two weeks, so it gives you six months to get through the whole playlist. They’re songs I love, songs that remind me of you guys and our family, and I hope they help. JARVIS will play the first song if you ask, and there’ll be another video soon, but I won’t tell you when! Bye, I love you!_ ” Peter says and then the video cuts.

Steve takes a few minutes to bury his face into the mattress and sob. The video had been painful in many ways but also a relief. It had been good to see Peter’s face, to hear his voice again.

“Has Tony seen this?” Steve asked and JARVIS was silent.

“ _I alerted him to the video the same time I told you, Captain. Master Peter was very adamant about the times these were to be released,_ ” 

“Did he watch it?” Steve asks and JARVIS tells him the affirmative. “Whats the song? Can you play it?” Steve asks, and the first strains of music filter through the speakers.

‘ _If I die young,_

_Bury me in satin,_

_Lay me down on a bed of roses,_

_Sink me in the river_

_At dawn,_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_ ,” a young woman croons and Steve makes himself listen to the song in full, even though he wants to scream. As he listens, he finds himself standing up and walking automatically through their rooms, letting himself into the common lounge. Tony is there, propped up on the sofa by a very haggard looking Bruce, and Steve waves him away as he comes to kneel next to him.

“I’m sorry Tony,” he says as the final strains of the music fade, and Tony lurches forward into his arms, his breathing ragged. He still stinks of alcohol and he will probably have a hangover tomorrow, but he is all Steve has left now, and he’ll be damned before he lets it go. 

**{#}**

It’s nearly a week later when Steve runs into Teddy again – and this time, it’s literally. He’s on an evening run through central park, enjoying the last warm days of fall before winter set in, when the teenager runs into his side. Tony and Peter often commented that it was like running into a brick wall, and from the way Teddy rebounds off him, Steve doesn’t think the comparison is incorrect. The teenager goes sprawling onto the grass and Steve reaches to help him up without hesitation.

“I’m so sorry!” Steve says, pulling Teddy to his feet. He notices who it was he was helping and smiles. “Teddy, right?” he asks and the teenager opens his mouth to say something cutting and then looks surprised.

“You!” he says, before clamping his mouth shut. He cast a nervous look over one shoulder and Steve cranes his neck, trying to see what’s making him nervous.

“Yep- me,” Steve gives him a small smile and claps him on the shoulder.

“HEY, FAG!” There’s a shout from near a cluster of trees and Steve tenses when Teddy does. Teddy swears under his breath and tries to run again, but Steve claps a hand on the back of his neck and holds him in place. Steve’s jaw has tensed in a way Peter would know from a mile off, but Teddy hasn’t realised yet. Steve is preparing for war.

A group of three boys, because they really are boys, not much older than 15, are sneering and prowling closer, trying to get near Teddy. Teddy shifts his weight, but Steve just smoothly stands in front of him.

“Can I help you boys?” he asks with a smile, the smile that won the hearts of millions during the USO tour, and adorns bedroom walls these days. The boys falter, but the tallest keeps going.

“Hand over the faggot, man, and we won’t kick your ass too,” he sneers and Steve’s smile fades and he stares the boy down.

“Son – just don’t,” he says in a low voice, and one of the boys trying to take a swing at him. Steve grabs his fist with lightning reflexes and holds it, applying pressure. The boy gasps. “I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves. My name is Steve Rogers,” he says, and the smile on his face has changed now, he’s not the boy-scout, this smile is dangerous. This is the smile of a man who has led an army to war and won.

“Shit!” one of the kid gets the hint, and turns on his heel. He calls over his shoulder Steve’s identity and the other kids make to run as well. The leader, the idiot who took a swing at him, tugs uselessly at his fist.

“Let me go, man!” he says and Steve drags him forward, so they’re close.

“Manners cost nothing,” Steve says contemplatively, and then lets his fist go – the boy has been pulling so hard he goes tumbling backwards, and then he’s scrambling in the dirt, up onto his feet and away. Steve looks back and Teddy is staring at him openmouthed.

“Dude,” he says with awe and Steve presses his lips together.

“I don’t like bullies,” he says as an explanation and Teddy nods, smiling. His cheek is red again and Steve can’t help when he moves closer to check it, but Teddy flinches away. Steve steps back. “Sorry, I’m a da-, well, I...” he was about to say ‘I’m a dad’ but he isn’t now, is he? Not really. Not anymore. It hurts to think about and he feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs and his eyes slip out of focus. Teddy is still there though, and he grips Steve’s forearm to bring him back to reality. He gives Steve a smile and then lets go.

“Thanks,” he says, glancing down at the ground bashfully. Steve smiles and squeezes his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. Try not to run into anymore trouble,” he tells the teenager and Teddy nods, before dashing away.

Steve jogs back to the tower, running over his thoughts, even as JARVIS alerts him to the fact that Sam is upstairs in the penthouse, along with his sons. Steve lets the elevator carry him up to the top floor, where the doors open to reveal Virgil and Rudyard sitting in the living room, eyes glued to the TV. “Hey boys,” he says and they both hum in acknowledgment. Steve looks around and frowns. “Where’s your Dad?” he asks and Rudyard looks over his shoulder, his expression a mirror image of one Tony gets from Pepper more often than not.  
“With Uncle Tony,” Virgil says, as if completing his twin’s thought. 

“In the workshop,” Rudyard adds, turning back to the TV. Steve watches the boys for a moment longer, assessing whether or not to disturb Sam and Tony, and then decides to go see what they’re up to. Taking a half-flight of stairs up, Steve walks down the glass-plated corridor and pauses outside the door, listening.

“You should probably talk to someone about this,” Sam is saying, his voice pitched low and Steve frowns. Somewhere inside, Tony scoffs.

“I’m _grieving_ ,” he says, as if the word itself is poisonous and Sam tuts.

“No - what you’re doing is self-destructive bullshit which is going to -,”

“ _Captain,_ ” JARVIS says quietly, interrupting Steve’s eavesdropping, though he still jumps away from the door like a naughty schoolboy. “ _I would remind you that this is a private conversation between Sir and Lt. Wilson_ ,” which is JARVIS-speak for ‘stop being nosey’. 

Steve nods, resolute, and steps away from the door, heading back down to the main living floor. Virgil’s eyes follow him down the stairs, though Rudyard continues to stare at the TV. Steve stops at the bottom of the stairs to stop and survey them both - the twins are 10, on the verge of gangly teenagers, and they watch him with wide brown eyes.

“Do you boys want dinner?” he asks and Virgil visibly restrains himself from rolling his eyes. Rudyard elbows his twin in the ribs, his face impassive.

“No thanks, Uncle Steve,” he says, his voice polite but quiet. Steve nods and then flounders for what to do. He settles for finding a book on the bookshelf and sitting in the armchair Bruce used to use, back when they all lived together. Nowadays, they’re spread all around the city. 

Bucky and Clint maintain a home in a Brooklyn these days, a converted loft of sorts, which needed a rather terrifying amount of baby-proofing prior to the birth of their daughter. Jane holds tenure at Columbia, so she and Thor have a house near campus, which they inhabit when they’re not in Asgard with their three children. Pepper, Sam and the twins have a brownstone a few subway stops over from the tower, and Sam is a part-time therapist for the local VA when he’s not being a house-husband, while Pepper is still the terrifyingly efficient CEO of Stark Industries. As for Natasha, Darcy and Bruce, they still live in the tower, but in separate apartments below the penthouse, and their lives rarely cross-over, unless they want it to. 

Steve supposes, sometimes, that it’s all part of being an adult. 

Everyone comes over, of course, and the children have play-dates and all attend the same schools, and they are all pretty much living out of each other’s pockets, except that they’re not, not anymore. And while everyone has been incredibly kind and supportive in the months since Peter’s passing, Steve isn’t fool enough to not notice the widening gap between him and Tony, and the other parents of the group. 

‘ _Dying children isn’t contagious!_ ’ he wants to shout at them, sometimes, but he resists. They’re all kind-hearted people - but this is a wound that none of them can mend. 


	3. Always Thought I'd See You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy is in a worse condition that Steve last saw him in, and he can't leave him like that. Unfortunately, Tony won't be convinced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long overdue, but it's here now! Hopefully I'll be a bit more regular with updates in the future. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on my Tumblr, [dwell-the-brave](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dwell-the-brave/), or my Twitter, [@dwell_the_brave](https://twitter.com/dwell_the_brave).
> 
> The song mentioned is 'Fire And Rain' by James Taylor.

**Late October**

Really, considering how big the island on Manhattan is, Steve is finding that he’s bumping into Teddy more often then he would any other person he was acquainted with. This time, he spots Teddy sitting on the staging in Time’s Square, staring at the flashing billboards without really seeing them. Steve approaches him hesitantly and then finds himself sitting next to him.

“Hey,” he says quietly and Teddy jerks, like he’s been startled, and looks at him. He looks pale, his lips flushed red and his eyes glazed. Steve instantly has concerns. He reaches out a hand to steady him, and again Teddy flinches away. “Teddy, are you okay?” he says and the teenager tries to shrug him off.

“I’m fine, just… not had much to eat…” he trails off, swaying dangerously where he’s sitting. Steve feels the alarm-bells going off in his head. Steve grips the teenagers arm a bit firmer. 

“When was the last time you ate, Teddy?” he asks and Teddy mumbles something faint. He gives him a little shake. “Teddy!” he says and Teddy tries to shrug him off again.

“Tuesday, alright?” he snarls and Steve’s hand goes slack in surprise. Today is Friday - Teddy hasn't eaten for three days? 

“Oh my god,” he breathes, and then he reaches for the teenager again, standing up and hauling him to his feet. “First things first - we’re going to get you something to eat,” he says firmly, taking them both straight to the Hard Rock Cafe. It’s quiet at this time of day, the tourists not yet descended, and the waitresses recognise him instantly. They seat them in a nice corner booth, and get them a jug of water and some colas as soon as they’ve asked. Steve pours Teddy some water and makes him drink that slowly first.

“We’ll get onto why you’ve not eaten in a minute, but order whatever you want,” Steve says firmly as a waitress presses a menu into Teddy’s hands. The teenager still looks dazed a bit lost, and Steve takes pity on him. He orders them a plate of nachos to start, and the waitress bounces off to place their order. “Teddy - what happened?” he asks softly and Teddy leans back into the booth, closing his eyes. He looks painfully young for a second, and Steve wants to wrap him in cotton wool. But there are large dark circles under his eyes and he looks so tired and gaunt. How could Steve have not seen that before? 

“I can stay at - a friends house, sometimes,” Teddy says slowly and Steve leans forward to listen. “But his parents don’t know the full story so I don’t ever stay more than two nights in a row. And other than that, I don’t have -,” Teddy blinks up at the ceiling and takes a shaky breath. “Well, I don’t have anywhere else. So I’ll sleep in the park. Or at a bus station. And -,” his face crumples and he rubs a hand over his face. His skin is grimy and stained and Steve’s heart goes out to him. 

“Hey,” Steve says softly, reaching for the teenagers hand. He catches it and squeezes for a second, ignoring Teddy’s wet sob that breaks through. “We’re going to get you sorted, okay?” he says and he means it - this is a promise in his _bones_. 

Teddy nods, the trusting nod of a child, but Steve means it. The waitress comes over with their plate of nachos, and Steve piles some on a small plate for Teddy and watches him eat it. The blonde boy eats slowly, savouring each mouthful and it pains Steve because it reminds him of all those decades ago when he and his Ma would share the last of a loaf of bread and each bite was precious. 

He picks at his own small plate and when the waitress bustles over to take their mains order, Teddy looks bashful. Steve orders himself a burger and a steak, and gives the teenager a half-smile when he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I burn through four times the calories as a normal human. Gotta eat a lot to keep up with it,” he explains, and the waitress giggles a little. Teddy orders a burger too and shyly asks for extra chips, and the waitress disappears again. They are left in silence, until Steve clears his throat. ‘How’d you… get here, then?” he asks, not sure what Teddy is comfortable revealing. Teddy rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and breaths deeply.

“My mom died when I was 12. Breast cancer, they caught it too late because we couldn’t afford the appointments, and she died 5 months later. Dad-,” Teddy clears his throat and shakes his head, dropping it back down to look at Steve. “Dad didn’t cope well. He hadn’t been around much when I was a kid and he wasn’t prepared for a teenager,” he says quietly and Steve purses his lips.

“That’s no excuse,” he says firmly and Teddy ducks his head down, almost as if he were afraid to agree. Steve blows a breath out harshly and pushes forward. “What about school? Do you go?” he asks and Teddy shakes his head.

“No fixed address, so I can’t really register. I borrow Billy’s - my friend’s - textbooks sometimes to have a read through. He complains about high-school a lot but I… well, I miss it. I was good at Math,” he says faintly, sadly and Steve gets the urge to hug him. He discreetly pulls his cellphone out as the waitress brings over their food, and texts Phil Coulson.

[ _Teddy Altman, approx 15. Mom died 3 yrs ago. No fixed address - can we get him a placement?_ ]

He hits send and picks up the steak knife to dig in.

They eat in silence aside from occasional hums of pleasure from the delicious food, and the waitress keeps coming back over to refill their drinks and check in on them. Teddy asks for some coleslaw shyly, and she grins at him and bounces off to fetch some. In his head, Steve has named her Tigger, and the thought makes him smile and feel sad at the same time - Peter had loved Winnie the Pooh. 

Soon, their meal draws to a close. Phil hasn’t text him back yet, but Steve wants to keep Teddy close, so after he pays with one of Tony’s sleek black Amex’s, he offers to show him Stark Tower, and Teddy can barely contain his excitement. It is cooler outside than it had been earlier, and Steve shrugs off his jacket to hand to Teddy, who tries to refuse it.

“Supersoldier, remember? I don’t feel the cold as much,” he says, which is a bare-faced lie but whatever gets Teddy to take the goddamn jacket. The walk is brisk but they chat on the way, and Teddy explains how he was in AP Math when he was a freshman and his favourite science was Biology, and he planned to go into Biomedical Engineering when he went to college. Steve smiles and nods and asks questions and by the time they get to the building, he knows what he has to do.

He gets Teddy signed in with a visitors pass and takes them up to Bruce’s lab to begin with, though he doesn’t tell Teddy that. He pauses at the glass door and raps on it with his knuckles until he can hear Bruce call for him to enter. He keys in the code and the door swishes open with a hush of air. 

“Bruce,” he greets, walking up behind the scientist to clap him on the shoulder. Bruce is bent over a computer screen, his glasses on the end of his nose and his hair a riot of salt and pepper curls. “Sit back a minute, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” he says and Bruce leans back with a frown on his face. He glances back and does a double-take at Teddy, before looking back at Steve’s face.

“Steve-,” he starts, his voice wary but Steve cuts him off with a smile.

“Teddy, this is Bruce Banner,” Steve says, gesturing for the teenager to come over. Teddy approaches slowly, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re the guy who-,” and then Teddy makes a movement which suggests ballooning and Bruce gives him a half-smile.

“Yeah,” he says, having long ago accepted the hand that fate dealt him. The Hulk had been accepting of Peter, and had been known to sit quietly with the boy watching cartoons after a battle, until Bruce de-Hulked. 

“Cool,” Teddy replies with the practiced nonchalance of a teenager and Bruce bobs his head in agreement. Steve smiles. 

“Teddy was just telling me about how he plans to go into Biomedical Engineering in college. Think you could show him some stuff?” Steve suggests and Bruce raises his eyebrows, obviously knowing something isn't adding up, but goes along with it anyway.

“Sure - come over here, I’ll show you what I’m doing at the moment,” he says and Teddy side-steps around Steve to come closer, bending to look at the screen. When Steve’s sure they’re both absorbed in the scrolling data, he slips out of the room and calls up to JARVIS.

“ _Captain?_ ” JARVIS asks politely. 

“Where’s Tony?” 

“ _He is in the penthouse, currently with Ms Potts,_ ” JARVIS tells him, and so when the elevator arrives, Steve hits the penthouse floor, even though it’s probably superfluous after his conversation with JARVIS. The floors ding by until the lift shudders to a stop. The doors slide open and Steve walks in.

Pepper and Tony are sitting on the sofa, heads bent close together, and if Steve were a lesser man, he would be suspicious, never mind the fact that Pepper was married with children now. But Tony and Pepper were close friends, best friends even, and Tony needed her right now. Pepper straightens up when she sees Steve and stands up, padding over to him in stockinged feet to say hello and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“We were just finalising plans for the new StarkPad launch,” she explains, and Steve smiles and waves off her explanation. She doesn’t need to justify herself to him.

“Tony, could I borrow you for a second?” Steve says and Tony nods, rising from the sofa. Steve’s heart sinks to see the tumbler of whiskey in his hand. They pad over to the kitchen and Tony pulls Steve in for a kiss once Pepper is out of sight. They’re not an overly affectionate couple, and Steve doesn’t like to make-out like teenagers in front of their friends if he can help it, but apparently Tony is an affectionate-drunk this evening. Tony leans into the kiss and hums happily to himself, before Steve breaks away. “Hi,” he says, a bit shocked, and presses his forehead to Tony’s, taking a moment to breathe him in. He’s smells of motor oil and sweat and leather, and it’s so good.

“Hello,” Tony grins against his lips, pulling him down for another kiss They indulge for a second before Steve breaks away again.

“I did actually need to talk to you about something,” Steve says and Tony reaches down to playfully pinch his bum. Steve swats his hand again. “Something _serious_ ,” he says. Tony is relaxed and playful now, but give him two more drinks and he’ll be the man that Steve found in the workshop all those nights ago. Tony grumbles to himself but pulls his hands away, even though they are standing close together.

Steve decides to bite the bullet.

“There’s a boy I met, in the Met a few weeks ago,” he says in a rush and Tony’s eyebrows fly up. Steve shakes his head, corrects himself. “N-no, not like that. He’s a teenager, about 15? He’s… Tony, he’s homeless. I found him today in Times Square and he hadn’t eaten in 3 days,” he says, sounding even to himself desperate. Tony steps back, and Steve reaches for his hand.

“No,” Tony says, his voice quiet and steely, stepping just beyond Steve’s reach.

“But, Tony, I -,”

“You can’t just - you can’t just _replace_ Peter,” Tony says, slamming the tumbler onto the marble countertop. Steve can hear Pepper’s little gasp of shock from the other room, and he reaches out a hand soothingly. “He’s only been _gone_ 6 months Steve, for God’s sake, let the dust settle a bit!” Tony says, his voice rising. Pepper appears in the corner of Steve’s eye and he makes a motion for her to stay back. 

“I am not replacing P-peter,” Steve chokes out, his heart hurting from the very idea. “But there is a kid down there, a kid Peter’s age, who has nowhere to go and we have the space and the money!” Steve says, gesturing around them. They live an opulent lifestyle, richer than Steve could have ever dreamed about in his childhood. They want for nothing, Peter wanted for nothing and if they could just share a smidgen of that with Teddy, help him just enough… it would be worth it. 

“No,” Tony repeats firmly, his face pale and his lips pursed. He looks on the verge of screaming and Steve backs away. He is not going to get the answer he wants tonight. He glances at Pepper and then turns on his heel to leave. She grabs his arm on the way out.

“Steve…” she starts but he shrugs her off.

“Make sure he gets to bed at a reasonable time, please,” he says quietly and she stares at him before nodding - she then slips past him into the kitchen and he can hear her murmuring softly to Tony even as he walks away.

He heads back down to Bruce’s lab, pulling out his cellphone as he goes to phone Coulson.

“Coulson,” the other man greets after 2 rings.

“Hi, Phil,” he says with a small smile. After his mad life so far, Phil is a haven of sanity and common sense - at least, most of the time. 

“Captain. I got your text - what can SHIELD do for you?” Phil says, his voice playful though Steve can see his poker face in his minds eye. He imagines that the minions that often scuttle about in Phil’s wake are casting each other furtive glances right now. Steve scrubs a hand down his face and sighs down the phone.

“I spoke to Tony about the kid, and he’s saying ‘No’,” Steve explains. Phil remains silent on the other end. “Look, he’s homeless. Stays with a friend a few nights a week but when I found him today, he’d not eaten since Tuesday. And the last two times I bumped into him, he had either just been punched, or was just about to. It’s just… I’m worried about this kid, Phil,” Steve says and Phil hums, but doesn’t say anything. In fact, he’s quiet for so long that Steve takes the phone away from his ear to make sure the line hasn’t cut off. “Phil?” he prompts. 

“Just thinking, Cap. _Skye_ -,” Phil snaps at someone else and then the sound muffles - Phil has probably put the phone down to his chest to muffle the talk between him and one of his team. In that time, the elevator dings and Steve steps off at the right floor.Phil comes back with a huff. “Teddy Altman, right?” Steve hums the affirmative. “Leave that name with me, we’ll find something about him,” 

“What about housing him?” Steve prompts and he can almost hear Phil’s smile.

“You have a big tower there, Rogers. I’m sure you can find somewhere to put him,” and then he hangs up. Steve swears at the StarkPhone in his hand, and then pockets it. He thinks for a long moment, leaning against the nearest wall and tilting his head back. He curses Tony under his breath, thinking about how empty the penthouse had been since Peter had gone. How a teenager would bring something that had been missing back into the walls.

But.

_But_.

He thumped his head against the wall and gritted his teeth against a fresh wave of tears. They came and went, some days. Sam called it ‘leaking’ - not active crying, just tears falling from his face. He blinks them back and then straightens, pulling himself together.

He knocks on the door of the lab before entering, and finds Teddy and Bruce just as he left them, heads bent together as they study something on the screen in front of them. Bruce is talking quietly, and Teddy is nodding along, and Steve lets himself smile for a second. Then something clicks in his head. _Of course!_

“How’re you guys getting on?” he asks and Bruce gives him a small but honest smile, Teddy turning to face him with a grin that could power the whole tower.

“This is _brilliant_ ,” he says and then launches into a rambling monologue about Bruce’s work and how it might effect future generations of genealogists, not to mention biological engineering as a whole. Steve smiled at him, not understanding a word but appreciate of how it made Teddy light up.

“Sounds like you learned a lot,” Steve says once Teddy pauses to catch his breath and the teenager smiles. It’s so genuine and carefree that Steve resolves to do what he must to make sure Teddy doesn’t go back on the streets again. “Right, we better get going. Bruce, see you later?” Steve says but Bruce has already turned back to his screen and just waves a hand lazily good-bye. Steve takes Teddy’s shoulder and steers the teenager out of the lab and back to the elevator, where he’s gone strangely quiet. Steve prods him slightly. “Are you alright?”

“This is where you show me out, right?” Teddy says after a long moment of quiet and Steve’s heart breaks a little. Teddy’s entire posture shows defeat - his slumped shoulders, his eyes on the floor, and Steve, without thinking, draws him against his side. 

“No, not at all. I just thought I’d show you were you’ll be staying - for a while, at least,” he says and he can feel Teddy perk up next to him. The elevator stops at what used to be Steve’s floor, when he first moved in - the suite still opens to his touch as he likes to escape down here sometimes, and his studio is still exactly where it was before. The two other bedrooms are sparsely decorated but comfortable enough, and Steve ushers Teddy over to one, JARVIS lighting up the path as they go. 

The room is light and airy, with one wall made of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline. Teddy gapes at it, and goes over, trailing his fingers along the glass while Steve watches from the doorway. The lights are dim in here and Teddy’s face is obscured in shadow, but Steve can already see the kind of man he’ll become - the sort of hero he’d be.

He shakes his head and steps further into the room.

“There are some old t-shirts and things here, and some towels in the bathroom. The fridge is usually stocked of at least the essentials, so help yourself. If you need anything, ask JARVIS,” he says and Teddy blinks at him.

“Who?”

“ _Hello, Young Sir,_ ” JARVIS greets and Teddy jumps but then grins. 

“Oh my god!” he says, delighted and Steve smiles.

“JARVIS is the AI that runs the tower. He’ll be able to get any messages to me, anywhere. Just ask him,” he says and Teddy nods, clearly excited. Steve steps forward and grips his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Have a shower, or a bath, whatever. Order some pizza, watch TV. Relax. We’ll talk again in the morning, and decide where to go from here, okay?” he says and Teddy nods, his face open and happy. 

“Captain?” Teddy says as Steve turns to go. He pauses and looks back. The teenager twists his fingers together awkwardly for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you, really,” he says, his voice sincere. Steve smiles and waves good night, heading back out to the elevator lobby. 

“ _Captain,_ ” JARVIS says once they’re outside the suite. 

“If you’re going to tell me to tell Tony, you can shut it, JARVIS,” Steve says as he waits for the elevator to come back up from the ground floor. 

“ _I had assumed you wished for me to not divulge your secret, Captain, and I will not. I just thought to inform you that another of Peter’s song has been released this evening,_ ” JARVIS says and Steve feels all the air leave his lungs in a _whoosh._

“Oh,” he says, stepping into the elevator even as his knees go weak.

“ _Shall I play it, SIr?_ ” JARVIS asks and Steve shakes his head.

“W-wait until I’m with Tony, please,” he says faintly and JARVIS says nothing more, taking on the command. The elevator zips him up the floors until he’s on the penthouse floor again. There is silence from all the rooms, until Steve spots Pepper’s hair on one of the sofas. She is bent over Tony, who looks to be curled on the sofa with his head on her lap, his eyes half-closed. She looks up when he enters, smiling apologetically again, and brushing her fingers through Tony’s hair with a soft hum.

“Tony,” she murmurs, and Steve’s husband stirs, blinking up at her and then focussing his eyes on Steve. He sat up with a jerk and they look at each other for several seconds before Steve steps forward and reaches out. Tony takes his hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

“Peter’s got another song for us,” Steve murmurs and Tony’s grip on his hands tighten but he nods anyway. JARVIS plays the music. A gentle guitar plucking opens the song. 

‘ _Just yesterday morning,_

_They let me know you were gone._

_Seems that the plans they made,_

_Put an end to you._

_Walked out this morning,_

_And I wrote down this song._

_I just can’t remember who to send it to,_ ’a soft male voice sings, and Tony leans into Steve’s embrace. He sways them gently on the spot, tucking Tony’s head under his chin and wrapping his arms across Tony’s back. Pepper watches them with teary eyes. 

As the song fades out, Steve still continues to sway them in lazy circles, Tony’s face pressed against his chest. Pepper leaves discretely, her movements unhurried, and she gives Steve a small wave as she goes. He smiles as her retreating back, and hums to himself a little, all while rubbing small circles into Tony’s lower back.

Tony shifts away after a moment, pulling back and he looks up at Steve with an intensity that Steve hasn’t seen for a long time. Tony takes his hand and leads him into their bedroom, the rooms going dim as they exit, and the fire sparking up in the grate. Tony drags Steve down, pressing their mouths together hungrily, making small noises at the back of his throat as Steve’s fingers slip under the hem of his t-shirt. They strip each other, hands running over where fabric once clung, and Tony’s small noises get loud, little gasps and groans as Steve ducks his head to suck a bite into Tony’s shoulder. The scars from the arc-reactor removal are pale and puckered in the centre of Tony’s chest, and Steve traces them delicately, first with the tips of his fingers and then his tongue. 

He pushes Tony back into their bed, running his hands down his husbands sides and over his thighs, pushing them apart and back. Tony sighs peacefully and tangles his fingers into Steve’s hair as Steve kisses his way down Tony’s body, pausing to flick his tongue over his nipples, into the dip of his navel, along the bones of his hips. Steve takes his time, savouring the closeness, the whisper of skin against skin and how Tony hisses and curses and prays in one breath, his head thrown back, his neck a beautiful arch in the firelight.

When Steve enters him, they both sigh, foreheads pressed together, exchanging lazy open-mouthed kisses that are more like brushing their lips together idly. They move in an unspoken rhythm, Tony biting off chokes with his face pressed to Steve’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his sides. Steve gasps love songs onto Tony’s skin, his hands gripping Tony’s thighs, his hips, one in his hair and the other across his back. They build together like a tsunami and crash over the shore with gasps and sobs. 

After, Steve holds Tony close to him, the engineer sprawling over Steve’s chest, their legs entwined. Steve idlycards his fingers through Tony’s hair, pressing soft kisses to Tony’s fingertips as they drift lazily over his lips. Tony is sill staring at him, studying him with something different and new in his eyes. Steve quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Tony?” he prompts, and Tony’s eyes snap to meet his, focussing again. He moves his fingers to Steve’s jaw and strokes along it, his mouth working like he’s trying to find the words to say something important. “You okay, baby?” Steve says quietly, and Tony nods.

“That was the first time since - since,” Tony whispers after a moment of silence and Steve involuntarily tightens his grip on his husband, fingers digging in slightly. Tony smiles up at him and then begins to laugh. Steve finds laughter bubbling out of his chest as well, the feeling building and then he studies Tony’s face and sees the tears running down his cheeks. And by the way Tony is swiping his fingers along Steve’s cheekbones, he must be too.

“I love you,” Steve says, his voice firm despite the laughter and the sobbing that build behind it. Tony nods and presses wet kisses to his face, propping himself up.

“I love you too,” Tony says, nuzzling his cheek and Steve draws him back down into his arms. Tony stays there all night. 

**{#}**

In the morning, Steve leaves Tony alone in bed to go for a run. The morning is brisk as they head into November, and it’s dark when Steve sets off, the sun gradually coming up as he rounds Central Park. It’s a quiet morning, no other runners that he sees, and it gives him time to think, especially about what Tony said last night.

Is he trying to replace Peter? Steve thinks long and hard about that question, and comes to same conclusion as he had last night - no, he’s not trying to replace Peter. What he’s trying to do is find a way to live without him, and if that means helping Teddy, taking him in, then Steve will do that.

He can’t find the words to describe the pain of watching his son die. He thought it was bad, waking up 70 years in the future to find out pretty much everyone he loved had died, everyone except Peggy who was hanging by a thread when he finally found her. Even being reunited with Bucky wasn’t a joy - when they had finally caught up with him, his programming was still so strong that he tried to kill Steve three times before they broke through. He managed to take down two SHIELD agents as well, and their names were now engraved on the New York memorial stone at the lobby of the Avengers tower. 

Peter had decided one afternoon, after a talk about his progress with his doctor. When Dr Morton gave them the crushing news that the chemo was no longer working and they had run out of options, Peter had been quiet. When they had taken him back home, settled him on the couch with a film and a blanket, they had held him close while he shuddered through tears, Steve holding him tight when he kicked and screamed at the reality he was facing.

When he had finally cried himself out, had let himself be pulled against Tony’s side while Steve stroked his back soothingly, he had hiccuped “I’m done,” so quietly they had to ask him to repeat himself. Peter had made himself sit up, rubbed a hand over his face and told them both solemnly. “I’m done. I can’t… I don’t want to do this anymore. This is it,” he said with a chilling finality, and Steve had felt his heart shatter.

“Pete - baby, you can’t-,” Tony had said with a low voice and Peter had nodded, and given him a watery smile.

“That’s the thing, Dad - I can. I’m done. I want to die,” he told them and Tony had broken then and there, gasping sobs, while Steve pulled them both to his chest.

They had agreed to let their son die, and it had haunted him ever since.

Steve stops in his run to put his hands on his knees and breathe deep, sorrow burning at his throat. Nearly a year since they had made that choice and he can still remember every detail. The way Peter had smelled of chemicals and mint, the rumble of Tony’s voice as he narrated along with the film, the pull of the blanket over their legs. Sometimes, Steve cursed the eidetic memory the serum had granted him. 

He starts running again, taking his time to pace himself. When he gets back home, he has to see Tony off for the day, and then he’ll go speak to Teddy, alone. He finishes the loop of Central Park just as some other runners set off, and he makes his way back to Stark Tower, waving at the receptionist as he walks through. Some of the workers are trickling in early to start their mornings, and they either give him a wave or try to ignore him - he can tell which ones have been here longer by the way they give him a smile and don’t do a double-take at the running gear. He gets into the Avengers-designated elevator and asks JARVIS to take him to the penthouse. There is a small delay, and then he starts to rise, watching as people on the floors below shrink to ants.

He showers, poking his head into the bedroom so check on Tony (still asleep), and then he gets dressed, moving around the room silently. Tony rarely gets a good nights sleep, and when he does, Steve tries to avoid waking him up at all costs. He makes a small breakfast for Tony, just waffles and some coffee, and then goes to wake him up.

Tony, contrary to popular belief, is not a starfish in bed. In fact, he curls around himself very tightly, and doesn’t tend to move the whole night. Occasionally Steve will wake up and find that Tony has rolled away in his sleep, curled up over on his side of the bed, but most of the time, Tony will be right where Steve left him - tucked against his side. The true can be said of this morning, and Tony hasn’t moved since Steve woke up this morning. He is on his side, hands fisted in the sheets, sheets up to his neck and his mouth slightly parted. Steve’s heart clenches, but in a good way. He kneels on the mattress and ducks down to press a kiss to Tony’s hairline, stroking back his hair.

“Hey, wake up,” he murmurs, and Tony makes a huffing sound. His eyelashes flutter, but there is no further movement. Steve smiles and kisses Tony’s cheek. “Time to get up,” he murmurs and Tony turns his face into the pillow, causing Steve to chuckle. He kisses Tony’s shoulder. “C’mon Tony, there’s coffee and waffles for you upstairs,” he says, a little sing-song, and Tony turns his face back up, his eyes opening to a squint. He huffs as Steve gives him a gentle kiss, and then he scrubs at his eyes once Steve is clear.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he says gruffly, stretching. Steve watches as the muscles of Tony’s shoulders and arms tighten as he arches his body off the bed with a groan. He runs a hand idly down Tony’s side, but then Tony freezes and eyes him curiously. Steve watches his husbands face shut down, his expression blank, and he withdraws silently. 

“I’m… going to shower,” Tony says slowly, slipping out from under the duvet naked and padding into the bathroom. Steve releases the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and stares at the wall behind the bed. Last night felt like… they had jumped a hurdle, reached a milestone or something. But this morning feels like they’ve taken two steps back. He grits his teeth in frustration, allows himself a second to clench the sheets in his fists, and then he lets it go and breathes out. Takes a moment, stands up and leaves. He puts a post-it on the plate for Tony, and goes to the elevator, asking JARVIS to take him down to the floor below. 

The door dings open and he can hear the TV from the lobby. He keys in the code to get in, and the door clicks open for him. He wonders in and smiles at the sight before him. Teddy is sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a bowl of cereal balanced on his knee and a mug of coffee by his feet, watching TV. He has some sort of early-morning children’s cartoon on, something that Peter would watch with guilty pleasure whenever he got the opportunity, and the sight makes Steve’s smile falter for a second. 

“Hey,” he calls and Teddy jumps a little, but then waves the spoon at him. He looks a little bashful, guilty even, but as Steve comes closer, he can see that Teddy’s hair is still damp and he’s wearing a pair of Clint’s old sweatpants, and one of Steve’s old t-shirts. They hang off his frame slightly, but he looks a damn sight better than he did yesterday. “How was last night?” Steve asks, settling into the armchair next to the couch. Teddy grins and swallows the last of his mouthful.

“It was great, thank you - I had a shower and went to bed though, didn’t do much else,” he says in a rush and Steve smiles. 

“Good. You sleep okay?” he asks and Teddy nods again, already shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Steve smiles to himself and then goes to make himself a cup of tea. He hadn’t liked it years ago, remembering the stewed flavourless brews that Peggy used to make with the war rations, but then Natasha and Bruce had made it their personal mission to convert him, and they’d done quite well since. He liked to have a cup of tea first thing in the morning, and probably another later on in the day, and coffee interspaced throughout the day. It was better than main-lining coffee like Tony did. 

He settles back into the armchair with his warm mug and watches the cartoon with Teddy - from what Steve can gather, it’s about a pair of twins who live (are visiting?) a town where strange things always happen. It’s funny and witty and Steve finds himself snorting with laughter every now and then. 

The episode is just drawing to a close when the screen flashes red and JARVIS’ automated alarm sounds.

“ _Avengers Assemble. Avengers Assemble,”_ he repeats monotonously, and Steve is on his feet in a second. Teddy looks alarmed. 

“Stay here - help yourself to whatever you want, ask JARVIS to order in, but just - stay,” Steve says, moving one hand down like one would gesture at a dog. Teddy nods, his expression turning to fearful. “I’ll be - back,” Steve tries to reassure him, before running out the door. The lift is already waiting for him and it takes him right up to the top floor, the Avengers locker room and hangar for the quinjet. Clint is already there with Natasha at his side, both of them strapping on part of uniform. Natasha slides a knife home in her thigh holster, her gaze tracking him as he moves.

“What?” Steve asks, pulling his t-shirt up and over his head. Tony walks past without a backward glance and Steve frowns at him.

“Nothing,” Natasha says, which isn’t what she means at all. He’s sure he’ll get an interrogation later, but for now he keeps his face perfectly blank. 

They load up into the quinjet, Tony already at the controls and they take off seconds later. Steve reads the mission report on his Starkpad as they fly, Maria transmitting all the relevant information as she gets it. A small text bubble appears in the corner of the screen.

[ _Are you aware of the teenager in your old suite?_ ] Maria asks and Steve casts a cautious look over his shoulder. Of course JARVIS would’ve informed her - and probably Pepper too.

[ _Yes - leave him be._ ] he types back and nothing further comes back from Maria after. He scans over the information again - hostile in the middle of nowhere, Nevada. 

Fantastic. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am VERY SORRY about the sex scene. 
> 
> If y'all could see how red my face is...


End file.
